


A Bad Influence

by frabjousday (frabjous)



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: M/M, Vignette, queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frabjous/pseuds/frabjousday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is the straightest guy Nolan’s ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bad Influence

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed
> 
> I started writing this before season 2 began, but then didn't know where it was going. Turns out I still don't know, so you get this short vignette.

Jack is the straightest guy Nolan’s ever known, and he’s talking straight on multiple levels here. Jack approaches other men with a kind of good-natured, back-clapping heterosexuality that brings to mind popular sports teams, beer, and good old American family values. Which is a shame, because Nolan really wants to get behind that whole working class, outdoorsy, rugged look. It’s really working out for Jack. And Nolan’s entitled to a fantasy or fifty.

Jack’s not his usual type, but considering now his ‘type’ included psychotic con men who liked to tie him up in a decidedly not-sexy way, it’s probably for the best that Jack has so far proven immune to Nolan’s corrupting influence. Because Jack looks great without a shirt. Barefoot, stonewashed jeans, strands of dark hair being blown into his face by the wind while he uh... sailed his boat? Ties knots?

Well, Nolan can think of a few knots he wouldn’t mind Jack using on him (or vice versa), and Nolan never did learn how to sail properly. Why would he need to when he already has Captain Eye-Candy to do it for him?

The second problem is that Jack is also the most straight-forward guy Nolan’s ever known, which makes him something of an endangered breed in the Hamptons. It gets Nolan feeling all Save-The-Whales about Jack, although it’s probably a futile cause since anyone in Emily’s orbit is bound to get caught up in her coup d’etat eventually. But for now, it seems that Jack is completely oblivious to certain types of body language, and to the double entendre. Trite maybe, but Nolan is never crass. Well, at least not at this stage of the process.

“Nolan.” Jack greets him with just a name, and doesn’t seem particularly pleased about his presence. Kind of like Emily in some ways. “The usual?” 

Jack’s so obviously underwhelmed by Nolan that it makes Nolan want to stick around more often. It’s a nice change from the sycophants he usually deals with at Nolcorp. It’s refreshing. Plus the bar has a certain... rustic charm once you get used to it.

“Sure,” he replies, sliding across too many notes. “How’s the liquor trade been lately, Jack?”

Nolan’s taken to drinking whiskey on the rocks at the Stowaway in his spare time. That’s how much he likes Jack. 

(Postscript: that’s a lot by the way. He hates the taste and smell of whiskey. It reminds him of his father. But, as Jack noted early on, ordering elaborate cocktails wasn’t exactly endearing Nolan to their regular crowd, and he’s hoping he can create some better whiskey memories. In the Stowaway. With Jack.)

Jack gives him a look that means he’s being weird again. Can’t fit in with the rich kids, can’t hang with the everyman either. Well that just wasn’t fair at all. 

But he just pushes the glass tumbler forward, and replies, “Not bad. Things have started to pick up ever since the weather’s cleared.”

Nolan drums his fingers on the counter. “You gonna have one of these with me?”

“I’m working.” 

“Then take a break.”

Jack’s serious expression suddenly breaks, and he smiles fleetingly like the sun glinting through storm clouds. He turns back to guiltily glance at the other barkeep. “Nolan-”

“Jack,” Nolan says, mimicking his tone. “Here.” He pushes his drink towards Jack, leans over the counter and up-ends a fresh tumbler on the benchtop. He reaches for the whiskey bottle that Jack’s holding, and for a few seconds, their fingers touch across the cool glass. 

“I don’t drink on the job,” says Jack, looking into Nolan’s eyes and still holding onto the bottle. Nolan’s fingers curl around the glass and around Jack. 

“Take over for a minute will you?” Nolan yells to the other barkeep, John or maybe Paul, doesn’t take his eyes off Jack for a second. There’s a grunt of acknowledgement. Nolan’s a “regular” now.

“See,” he says sunnily, extracting the bottle carefully from Jack’s hand and pouring whiskey into the glass, “now you’re not on the job anymore.”

Jack gives an exasperated chuckle. “You’re a bad influence, Nolan,” he says, but accepts the drink anyway.

Jack has no idea. Nolan wants to do bad things to Jack. Bad, bad things that Jack probably couldn’t even begin imagining, and where half the fun will be telling him, teaching him, seeing him shudder with surprise and anticipation. Nolan is definitely going to that special hell.

Nolan raises his glass.

“To Jack Porter,” he says, “and his continuing moral turpitude.”

His eyes meet Jack’s over the rim of the glass. Jack is smiling into his drink.

+

(Later, much later, Jack says, “In my own bar. Using my own alcohol. Nolan...” He even sounds reproachful. 

Nolan smirks and stretches out like a cat.

He says, “I know.”)


End file.
